


There's A Joke Here About Something Being Fishy

by reptilianraven



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: 6k+ words of Stiles being VERY PASSIONATE about goldfish, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, M/M, another title could be Don't Give Derek Hale A Goldfish Ever
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-19
Updated: 2014-03-19
Packaged: 2018-01-16 07:40:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,604
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1337440
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/reptilianraven/pseuds/reptilianraven
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I'm sorry to take her from you. I thought it would be better this way." Stiles says with his face ridiculously solemn, fishbowl in hand, slowly backing away from Derek.</p>
<p>-</p>
<p>Or the one where Derek keeps on accidentally murdering his pet fish, Stiles threatens every pet store in town, and the rest of the pack wonders if this is some kind of foreplay. Also magic and monsters and stuff, though that's pretty normal.</p>
            </blockquote>





	There's A Joke Here About Something Being Fishy

**Author's Note:**

> this was written for this prompt (http://idareyoutowrite.tumblr.com/post/60532268623), which was probably expecting to spark up some serious angst, but the first thing i thought when i read it was: fish
> 
> this is my passive aggressive message to uninformed/irresponsible fish owners
> 
> this is set in a magical happy timeline post season 2. where erica and boyd are TOTES FINE and jackson is somewhere over the rainbow

Derek was always the type of person who loved the kind of absolute silence that would make most people uneasy, the kind of silence that’s just silence, the kind with no background noise or anything. Sadly, heightened hearing senses make this kind of silence almost impossible to achieve. There’d always be something, leaves rustling, footsteps somewhere. The most silence he could experience would occur in his loft in the evening when there was nobody else there.

It definitely is not quiet this evening though because somebody is knocking on his door like a fucking madman. 

He opens the door to see Stiles—and of course it would be, Stiles is the single most noisiest person Derek has ever met, leg always jiggling, fingers always tapping—holding a fishbowl containing one single goldfish inside.

“Derek, I need you to adopt Elphaba.” Stiles says.

Derek pulls the door closed.

Stiles just starts knocking again with a newfound intensity, one that Derek tolerates for a good seven seconds before caving in and pulling the door back open.

“Okay so just listen for a bit,” Stiles starts the moment the door is open one inch. 

“Stiles, why are you here with that?” He asks pointedly at the fish happily glubbing about in the fishbowl Stiles is holding.

“Because if I called you, you never would’ve come and,” Derek makes a move to slide the door closed again but Stiles jams his foot in, “Ow you fucker, let me explain you piece of shit!”

“Give me the gist of it,” He says because he honestly does not want to know the entire tragic backstory of this goldfish, whatever it may be. 

Stiles decides to prove his inner monolog wrong and says, “The fish is magic.”

Derek looks at him and slides the door open more, letting him in. “How is the fish magic?” He looks at the fish and it looks normal. 

“Does it smell normal?” Stiles asks and Derek leans in. “Does it smell fishy? Like suspicious fishy and not fish fishy? Does it smell magicky?”

He doesn’t know what magic particularly smells like. All he knows is that the fish doesn’t smell completely normal. It sort of smells like how a lava lamp _looks_ like and that doesn’t make any sense but it fits. “Where the hell did it come from?” He asks instead of answering Stiles.

“It’s actually a pretty funny story. I was researching about that demon fish thing that’s been eating up the town’s population of cats recently, and I zoned out a bit and stared at my physics book, thinking about fish. Then bam, my book turns into fish.” He tells Derek in one breath.

Derek wishes he was lying but there wasn’t a single hiccup in his heartbeat.

Magic goldfish. Why not?

“Is this your spark or something?” He remembers the night at the rave with the mountain ash where Stiles purposely wasn’t given enough, and how Deaton’s only reply to when Derek asked him about it was a smug look.

“Dude I don’t even know,” Stiles says looking around, eyebrows pulled up in irritation, “I just need you to take her.” He lays the fishbowl down onto the floor, probably because current lack of furniture.

“What, Why?” He blocks Stiles’ route of escape, hopefully looking threatening while doing so because he’s really annoyed with how ninety percent of his input in this conversation were all interrogative statements because Stiles has yet to give him any _actual answers_.

Stiles takes a deep breath. Oh god. 

“Well first off _I_ can’t take her because I had a fish once when I was a kid and it died because I forgot to feed it and I don’t want Elphaba to die,” He says casually. “I’m not giving her to Scott because no matter how much I love him, the fact stands that he regularly forgets to put shoes on when he leaves his house. I’d give her to Allison but I don’t want this fish anywhere near the terrifying glares of Chris Argent, plus she’d probably teach her to swordfight or something. And Lydia would dissect her.” He enumerates on his fingers. “I would have tried the beta trifecta, but at this time of the night? I would have interrupted them mid-threesome or something.” He finishes. “So that left you, I figured you could use the company.”

“Kill it,” Derek says easily.

“You heartless bastard, I’m not killing it, I refuse to be responsible over another fish death.” He tells him. “And you’re not going to kill her either. Take it as an exercise in responsibility.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” He snarls but Stiles already walked past him, towards the door. 

“Nothing, just take care of Elphaba.” Stiles rolls his eyes, “God, I hope she doesn’t turn back into a book that’d be shitty.” He adds. “Well, bye.”

Stiles walks out the door when Derek says “Wait,” because his curiosity always gets the better of him when it’s Stiles. “Of all names, why Elphaba?”

Stiles’ head back into the room. “Oh, well it was a physics book then it turned into a fish, books don’t usually turn into fish, the fish was defying the laws of physics by being a fish, defying gravity, Elphaba. Night, Derek.” And with that, he leaves.

Derek is standing in his loft with a fishbowl on his floor containing a single fish. It’s completely silent other from the occasional glub from Elphaba.

He bends down and picks up the fishbowl, placing it on his kitchen counter before saying, “Try not to die,” to the goldfish.

He gets bubble in reply.

\---

Cats started disappearing at an alarming rate a few weeks ago. This usually was no cause for concern because there is no good reason for Derek to be concerned with the sudden disappearance of many cats. 

It got weird when the cats came back. Dead.

Dead cats started showing up and creeping everybody out. They were mauled beyond recognition and rotting in places dead cats really shouldn’t be in. 

A few days after that and Isaac had texted him something about seeing ‘this whole mob of creepy ass little mermaids feasting on a cat. but 2 be fair its kinda dark and Erica dared me to eat this really old pickle she found in her fridge.’ which nobody paid much attention to until that said mob crawled out of the sewers and almost attacked Mrs. McCall one night. 

So then the pack tried the regular kill-it-dead plan but it wasn’t very effective because there were just so many of whatever they were. Honestly, they weren’t all that harmful individually, but when you’ve got fifty or so tiny little rabid scratching machines, things happen. Stiles and Lydia proposed that they try to get one alive and bring it to Deaton so that they could gather some useful information. 

So now, Derek is looking at…..okay honestly he doesn’t know what he’s looking at. Whatever it is, it’s dying and looks disgusting. It’s around the size of a Chihuahua, with the top half as a body of what looks like a small monkey, and the bottom half being a tail of a fish. It’s also bleeding out onto his floor, writhing, and screeching like crazy.

“Can somebody like, kill it or something?” Stiles says over the screeching as he applies another blue checkered band-aid over one of the many scratches he’s acquired in the past hour. 

Derek looks around his loft and all of them look like they’ve been through a blender. Erica, Boyd, and Isaac are all lounged on the couch, lying on top of each other with most of their clothes scratched to hell. He and Scott don’t look any better either because these monkey fish things have really bad teeth and claws. Allison looks worse for wear but still a whole lot better than the rest of them because she was shooting from afar. Right now, Stiles has it the worst, being the only human who went up against a whole horde of them at close range, and not having the privilege of supernatural healing. 

The door pulls open and everybody snaps their head to see Lydia walking in, wincing at the noise. She looks down at the _thing_ and sighs.

“I told you to get one alive.” She says.

“It’s not dead,” Scott points out.

“Well not for long. This,” She steps on the thing’s neck, stopping it’s writhing, “Won’t last long enough to get to Deaton.”

“Oh my god, then please kill the mermaid monkey,” Stiles says and Lydia presses her heel down and there’s this audible snap before the thing slumps down and stops all noise. “Finally.”

“Well,” She says looking at everybody. “At least we know one thing for sure.”

“And what is that?” Allison asks.

“We’ve got a pest problem.” Lydia says. “Since I’m sure nothing productive will occur tonight, I’m leaving.”

“I’m gone too,” Allison tells them as she slings her crossbow over her shoulder.

The moment Allison leaves, Scott is practically vibrating.

“Go,” Derek says and Scott hesitates for one second before running out too.

Erica, Boyd, and Isaac are falling asleep in the couch so they’re practically gone as well. So that leaves Stiles, who is sitting on his kitchen counter, applying one last band aid onto another scratch. He looks at himself in dismay.

“I feel like I went into a paper shredder,” He says. “I mean, of all creepy things, it had to be monkey fish with sharp bits.”

“Would you rather go against a unicorn?” 

Stiles groans into his hands, “I don’t even want to ask if those are real. Monkey mermaid fish from hell are bad enough.” He looks pointedly at the dead carcass on the floor and Derek frowns because he’s going to have to clean that up later. “Monk-maids? No, mer-keys?”

“I’m going to have to clean that up later,” He says.

“Ew, I’m so sorry.” Stiles winces. “But silver lining? At least they aren’t, like, completely malevolent. Just totally annoying.”

“Supernatural pests.” 

“Yeah, yeah, the world sucks, lighten up.” Stiles jumps off of the counter. “Speaking of supernatural, how’s Elphaba?”

Derek is very glad that Stiles isn’t a werewolf and can’t hear this because his heart just _stops._ Unfortunately, there is a couch containing three werewolves that definitely heard that.

“Ohhhhhh,” Erica draws out. “Derek’s fucked something up.”

Stiles glances at Erica then at the possibly very guilty face that Derek must be making. “Derek,” He says slowly. “What’s happened to Elphaba?”

“Nothing,” Derek says, not wanting to fall victim to the very effective mom face Stiles is making.

“By any chance,” Isaac pipes up from the couch, “Is Elphaba the dead fish I saw here yesterday?”

“No,” Derek snarls. _I fucking hate you,_ he leaves implied.

“Derek,” Stiles is looking at him, his face a cross between unreasonable hope and unfathomable anger. “Please tell me you didn’t kill Elphaba.”

He raises his hands up defeat, “I didn’t kill her. She just died.”

“Oh my god!” Stiles starts pacing. “I trusted you on this holy fucking—Derek it’s been _two days_. What the shit did you do? Did you forget to feed her or something?”

“I didn’t forget to feed her,” He says petulantly. “She just died.”

“Fish don’t just die, you did something wrong somewhere,” Stiles squints at him. “You kept her in the fishbowl didn’t you?”

Derek tilts his head, “Yeah I kept her in the fishbowl, what’s wrong with tha—”

“Fishbowls are fish deathtraps! That’s the equivalent of me shoving you into a box with no oxygen. There isn’t enough space for her to swim or water surface area for air. Oh my god.” He runs a hand through his hair. “I bet you didn’t even get an air pump. You killed her through asphyxiation. You’re terrible.”

“In Derek’s defense,” Isaac says from the couch. “He got me to like, fish resuscitate it back to life by blowing bubbles into the bowl.”

“That’s carbon dioxide you’re blowing in, you idiot.” Stiles stomps his foot on the ground and Derek mentally curses Isaac again. “You made it ten times worse!” 

“Stiles, it was just a fish.” Derek tries.

“It’s not just a fish, it’s the second fish whose death I’m responsible for. I should’ve given her to Allison.” He hides his face in his hands. “I’m done. Goodbye, I’m gone. You couldn’t even take care of a fish oh my god.” He says as he leaves the loft, head still in his hands.

The door slides shut and Derek can hear Boyd stifling his laughter.

“Are you three, I don’t know, leaving anytime soon?” He snaps.

“Nah,” Erica says and that’s that honestly.

\---

The thing is, Derek actually feels _guilty_.

Not that that isn’t a new thing because he’s got a whole mountain of guilt stewing in his brain, but it’s new that he’s guilty over a dead fish of all things, a dead fish who’s death he didn’t even directly cause. 

Despite the reasoning, he still can’t shake the feeling off. He blames it on Stiles. Stiles gave him the fish in the first place, and trusted it with him, and then he goes off and says shit like _“Take it as an exercise in responsibility.”_ He isn’t saying this to be self-deprecating or anything, but he isn’t responsible. One quick look at his life will confirm that. So if the fish was a test, then he fails. 

But if it was a test, then that subsequently means Stiles was testing him and his levels of responsibility (or lack of thereof.) 

Then his thoughts do this annoying thing where they bounce around in his head till assumptions are made. Assumptions like: fucking Christ, if he can’t take care of a fish, then how the hell will he be able to handle a whole pack of adolescent werewolves in the long run? Was this whole fish thing just Stiles trying to make a point? 

Nothing is for sure. Maybe Derek is just paranoid and over analyzing a fish.

But the fact stands that the next day, he’s at a pet shop.

He aggressively purchases one goldfish, along with a medium sized tank, an air pump, some aquatic plants, and a bag of pebbles.

He doesn’t trust himself to name it— he recalls his childhood years, when Laura had let him name the hamsters they co-owned, Browny, Blacky, and Whitey, take a wild guess on what their colors were— so he just names it Elphaba the 2nd.

Elphaba the 2nd swims around in her tank happily once everything is set up, and Derek can’t help but feel that he needs to prove something with all this.

\---

“The Fiji mermaid,” Deaton says.

“The what now?” Scott asks.

The monkey fish in question replies with loud and high pitched screeches from its confines.

Stiles and Scott were actually able to catch one alive using a half-eaten burger and a very large rat cage. Now, that cage is sitting atop a steel table in the animal clinic, where Deaton took one look at it before looking like he knew everything already.

“The Fiji mermaids were sideshow attractions created by sewing the top half of a young monkey carcass to the bottom half of a fish carcass,” Stiles recites, chewing on a pen that Derek really wants to get rid of because it is distracting. “Last I remembered though, they never really came to life.”

“Precisely,” Deaton says. “That’s why somebody enchanted one of them to come to life, judging by the energy still clinging to this one,” He taps at the cage and mermaid hisses. “But the magic shouldn’t have lasted this long. I don’t understand why they’re still alive, and why they’re, apparently, multiplying.”

“What does that mean then?” Derek asks.

“It could be anything honestly,” Deaton tells him. “But, have you three noticed anything else strange, other from the mermaids? Particularly odd energies, or magic.”

Stiles sucks on his pen— _dear god_ —and hums, “There was this one _fishy_ thing a few days ago,” He says, probably about to tell them about Elphaba, but before he can, his pen turns into a lollipop. The smell of the sight of a lava lamp fills the air.

“Whoa,”Scott says as Stiles pulls the lollipop—strawberry—out of his mouth. “Dude.”

“Huh,” Stiles says.

“Stiles,” Deaton says. “Has this been a common occurrence?”

“Uh, no?” He says. “I was just about to tell you about how a few days ago I turned my book into a very healthy and happy goldfish.” He stares at Derek pointedly with narrowed eyes. Stiles doesn’t know about Elphaba the 2nd, Derek can only hope it’ll stay that way. “But like, that was the last time something weird happened.”

“Interesting.” Deaton decides.

“Really?” Stiles moves to suck on the lollipop but Derek swats it out of his hand. “Hey! What the hell?”

“Stiles you magically conjured that up out of nowhere, I don’t think it’s something you should be eating.” He says. He’s glad it sounds like a legitimate reason because he just really didn’t want to endure Stiles sucking on a lollipop for god knows how long. Derek has limits.

“What were you thinking of when you changed it?” Deaton asks.

“Well, food? I don’t know, I was hungry.”

“Try to take note of that from now on. Your magic may have something to do with this,” Deaton points at the mermaid which hisses. “My hypothesis is that we’re just facing some seasonal magic bursts, which would explain your new abilities, Stiles, with all the energy around, things just happen. But the energy is also giving the mermaids more power, and that’s why they’re not dying off.”

“Dude, that is so cool.” Scott says fistbumping Stiles. “Maybe you can just like, turn all of the weird merkeys into oranges.”

“Why oranges?” Is what Stiles got out of the conversation.

Scott shrugs. “I’m kind of hungry.”

An orange appears in Scott’s hand. The smell of lava lamp fills the room yet again.

“I’ve done it, I’ve solved world hunger.” Stiles says right as Scott thanks him and starts peeling the orange.

“Hey, wait. It’s magic, it might not be safe. Don’t eat that.” Derek tells them because his trust issues extend to fruits as well.

Nobody listens to him. According to Scott, it was the most delicious orange he’d ever eaten. Stiles just smiles in triumph.

\---

When he gets back to the loft, Elphaba the 2nd is belly up.

He forgot to feed her.

He goes back to the pet store and buys another goldfish. The girl working at the counter makes this face that looks like she’s mildly amused and terrified at the same time. It’s a face he’s been getting a lot. 

Elphaba the 3rd is swimming happily in her tank when Derek thinks that he might be in need of a better coping mechanism for daily life, preferably something that isn’t goldfish with high mortality rates.

He doesn’t know why, and that seems to be a reoccurring theme in his life now, but he starts talking to the fish, about Stiles of all things. It’s ridiculous, he is an _adult_ , he is the _alpha_ , he is—

He is trying to woo Stiles with his fish care capabilities.

(He vaguely remembers something his mom used to tell him. It went something like “Derek, when you find your mate, you’ll just fall head over heels for them and the idea that you can prove yourself worthy. They’ll find some way to test you and that’s really how it works. You chose them so they’ll have to choose you in return.”)

Elphaba the 3rd listens obediently. Occasionally swallowing a pebble and spitting it back out.

\---

It’s eight in the evening when he and Stiles are perusing the streets three days and another Elphaba later (Derek fucking swears he didn’t do anything wrong. Elphaba the 3rd must’ve had terminal fish cancer.) 

Stiles proposed that he could try and sense where the highest merkey concentration was located. Derek’s here because leaving Stiles unattended is always a disaster waiting to happen.

“What does magic even feel like,” Derek asks him as Stiles tries to balance on the edge of the sidewalk.

“It’s like, the tingly leg feeling. Except it’s not just in your leg, and it’s not a physical tingly.” He hops onto the road. “It’s like tingly in your soul.”

“Tingly in your soul.” Derek mimics.

“Ugh, shut up. Come on, there’s nothing here. Let’s keep on going.”

So they walk, and they try their best to not look like they’re sensing/sniffing the air. 

“I’m guessing you can sort of control your magic now?” Derek says.

“No, not really.” He shrugs. “Deaton said he’ll try teach me when the magic in the air goes back to normal and all the merkeys are dead. All I can do now is accidentally make food out of non-food items.” Stiles’ eyebrows knit in confusion, his hand outstretched in front of him. “Left, we’re going left.”

“Glad it’s at least manifesting in non-destructive ways.” Derek says and he hears Stiles’ sharp intake of breath. Derek counts to three. “What else has it done?”

“It’s nothing bad.” He says and Derek glares. “Okay, so fires have started when I sneeze. Very small fires.”

Derek looks at him.

“Hey don’t give me those judging eyes, Judgy McJudgerson. At least I’m not the one serial purchasing goldfish from the pet store!” He huffs.

Well crap.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” He tries. Stiles rolls his eyes.

“Her name’s Maggie.” He says. “She’s in one of my classes and she also works at the store you’ve been aggressively buying fish from.”

“I’m not—”

Stiles reaches into his pocket and pulls out his phone, shoving the screen into Derek’s face. They’re texts, from Maggie.

_Text from Maggie_  
 _-so u kno that hot leather jacket dude u hang out w/ ?_

_Text to Maggie_  
 _-hmmmmm he rings a bell. why?_

_Text to Maggie_  
 _-idk i thought youd wanna know that hes been buying a lot of goldfish?? from the store??? hes bought three so far and looks sadder after each one is he ok???_

_Text to Maggie_  
 _-he boUGHT THREE GOLDFISH??????_

“Derek you’ve bought three fish, and I’m willing to bet that each one of them has died.” Stiles shoves his phone back into his pocket angrily. “What is going through that head of yours, you fish murderer.”

Derek sighs “I’m just trying to—” 

He doesn’t get to finish that sentence because Stiles suddenly stands up straight and says “I feel one,” right before a single merkey emerges from a gutter and grabs Stiles on the ankle. “Okay now I definitely feel one!” He yells.

Derek lets his canines grow and claws come out and he’s just about to tear the thing to shreds but Stiles beats him to it.

Because the merkey-

The merkey has turned into a Fish Care Handbook.

“Really?” Derek says.

“Hey, if you’re gonna keep fish, better much keep them alive.” Stiles bends down and grabs the book, tossing it to Derek.

All in all, the night was a failure. They trudged around town for another hour before Stiles decided that ‘magic was bullshit’ and called it a night.

Derek goes home and reads the handbook, he takes note of the fact that goldfish apparently enjoy having company. 

The next day he goes to the pet store, ignoring Maggie’s raised eyebrow, as he buys a nice little blue betta fish.

He releases the betta into the tank with Elphaba the 4th.

“Elphaba, this is your new roommate, Glinda.”

Elphaba the 4th glubs happily.

\---

Elphaba the 4th is brutally murdered by Glinda.

He gets a barrage of texts from Stiles literally seconds afterwards.

_Text from Stiles_  
 _-MAGGIE TOLD ME YOU BOUGHT A BETTA_

_Text from Stiles_  
 _-PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE TELL ME YOU DIDN’T PUT IT IN THE SAME TANK WITH YOUR GOLDFISH_

_Text to Stiles_  
 _-I didn’t know._

_Text from Stiles_  
 _-OH MY FUCKING GOD_

\---

“Wow,” Erica whistles. “That is one dead dog.”

Sure enough there is a dead dog on the ground, laying on a bunch of dried leaves on the ground of the preserve. Skin and fur mauled and clawed past the point of no return, flies buzzing, various bones sticking out in odd angles.

“That is disgusting,” Stiles says, turning away quickly. “Thank you, Erica. That was something I totally needed to see.”

“Hey, Lydia was the one who wanted you to come see it now that you’re our magic detector.” She says. 

“Erica, why are you here anyways?” Derek asks.

“Bored.” 

Stiles takes a deep breath. “Okay, well I’m not feeling anything. But this is bad. That’s a dog.”

“Huh, never would of thought.” Erica twirls a lock of her hair.

“No, I mean, that’s a dog. That’s a big ass dog. The merkeys are moving on to bigger prey.” He says. “They’re also getting bolder. Allison’s seen them start to come out in daylight too. They’ve gotta go soon, you know, before they start eating children or something.”

“Lydia says she might have a solution,” Derek tells him. “We’re having a meeting tonight. The sooner, the less chances there are of more people getting hurt.”

“Yeah, we wouldn’t want killer fish killing the innocent now would we.” Stiles practically hisses in Derek’s direction.

Derek runs a hand over his face in frustration. “I didn’t know!” 

Stiles turns to him, dead dog be damned, and screams “All you had to do was fucking google the betta fish to see that it’s also called the goddamn Siamese fighting fish.”

“Stiles, I don’t google things.”

“Right, sorry, I forgot you’re that you’re stuck in the 90’s.” He raises his hands in defeat as he walks back to his jeep. “You better keep that betta menace of yours alive because that is your last fish, Derek!” He yells.

He and Erica stand there, five feet away from a rotting dog, until they hear the sound of Stiles’ jeep starting up and driving away.

Erica smirks. “Trouble in paradi—”

“Not a fucking word.”

\---

Allison tosses a Dorito to Scott, who fails to catch it with his mouth, so instead, it hits him in the eye.

Werewolf or not, Scott’s coordination skills are a lost cause.

The whole pack’s at the loft, stretching after watching The Notebook at Lydia’s demand before she explains the plan. Scott and Allison are on the floor, Boyd and Erica seated against the couch, Isaac and Stiles both lying down on the couch, engaged in some sort of passive wiggle war to get the other to fall off, as Lydia stands, and unfolds a piece of paper she pulled out from her pocket.

“Alright, so I found a spell that might rid us of the vermin.” She says. “It’s essentially a magic barrier, it should act against magic sort of like how mountain ash works against werewolves. The spell should flush out any and all magic currently in Beacon Hills for about a week or so, and all the merkeys should drop dead by then.” 

“Alright, I’m assuming the spell needs ingredients?” Derek asks.

“Yes, and I’m dividing it between all of you so that we can do the spell as soon as possible.” She rips the list into sections, handing them around.

Scott reads his list and cringes. “A fresh pigeon skull?” He says while Allison says, “Gross.”

“At least you don’t have to find ‘seven gray hairs from seven different people.’” Boyd recites and Erica snorts.

Derek squints at his list because magic is so fucking weird when Isaac says. “Why doesn’t Stiles get a list? And you for that matter?”

“I’m not getting a list because I don’t want one. And Stiles’ magic will interfere with the ingredients somehow.” Lydia says.

“Woo.” Stiles cheers and Isaac finally nudges him off of the couch. Stiles falls to the floor in a loud thump.

A really loud thump.

There is a huge crack in Derek’s ceiling.

“Huh,” Scott says. “Magic smells sorta, lava lamp-y.”

Stiles cringes at the ceiling, bits of cement dropping to the floor. “Sorry.”

Derek only sighs.

Lydia rolls her eyes. “When the spell’s in place, that won’t be happening anymore too. Well, at least involuntarily. Anyways, I expect all ingredients complete in at least two days.” She says as she steps over the bodies on the floor to the exit. “Goodnight.” 

Everybody starts getting up slowly. Allison pulling Scott up, Erica and Boyd standing and then lying down on the couch with Isaac like they own the fucking place, and Stiles sort of just writhes a bit.

“Hey Derek,” Allison calls. “Your blue fish thing looks kind of dead.”

_Fucking shit_

Both Derek and Stiles whip their heads to look at the fish tank placed on the kitchen counter, and inside lies Glinda, floating weightlessly in the water.

Stiles opens his mouth but Derek speaks first, “Don’t you dare, I did not do anything wrong.”

Stiles practically leaps over the couch—which was actually pretty impressive—and stalks to the tank, before dipping his hand into the water.

“Derek,” Stiles says, voice edging on hysteria. “The water is freezing, betta fish are tropical fish they need warm water.”

“It was warm.”

“NOT ANY-FUCKING-MORE.” Stiles yells. “Holy shit, no, you know what?” Stiles pulls out his phone and starts texting. “Maggie will never sell you a single fish ever again. Not one. And I’m gonna mountain ash every other pet store in town.”

“Stiles—”

“No! Don’t start, don’t you ‘Stiles’ me. You. Are. A.” Stiles walks up to him. “Fish. Murderer.” He says, accentuating each word with a sharp poke to Derek’s chest before balling up his fists and marching out of the loft.

He closes his eyes and counts to ten.

When he opens his eyes, everybody is looking at him. Allison in particular is making a face that is usually reserved for puppies and Scott McCall’s smiles.

“What are you all looking at?” He barks.

“Nothing,” Scott says quickly, and, fuck, he’s _giggling_. Derek is done. He hates his life. “Come on, let’s go.” He takes Allison’s hand as they leave.

They only make it to the hallway, nowhere as far as they should have been if they actually didn’t want to be heard, before Allison whispers, “They’re so _cute._ ”

Boyd loses it. He doesn’t even try to muffle his laughter.

\---

“No.”

“But—”

“Nope.”

Derek slams his hands against the counter, Maggie, impressively, does not flinch. She leans back into her chair and raises an eyebrow. “What did Stiles offer?” He asks. “Did he bribe you or threaten you?”

“Why are you asking?” She says.

“So that I can offer you something better.”

“Really now?” She smiles. “You’ve gotta keep in mind that my secrecy about this transaction’s gonna cost you too.”

Derek bites back a growl. “I’m aware.”

That’s how Derek ended up buying Elphaba the 5th. AKA the single most expensive goldfish in the entire universe.

\---

He, Lydia, and Stiles are in the woods the next day. Lydia crouched over a stainless steel pot, reciting some old sounding language, as she throws the ingredients in.

“Lydiaaaaaaaaa,” Stiles leans against a tree. “Why am I here? I get why Derek’s here, he’s Derek. But I’m currently not doing anything.”

Lydia tosses in a coin into the pot, “You’re here as a funnel. For the barrier to work, it has to absorb all the energy in town to throw it out of range. Since magic already flows through you, it’d make the spell work faster.”

“I don’t know how to be a funnel.” 

“Don’t worry,” She steps back from the pot. “Just stand close to the pot and the spell should just suck all the energy out from you by itself.”

Stiles holds his hands close to his chest, “That does not sound pleasant.”

“Please, you’ll just feel a bit woozy afterwards. If it’s that bad, Hale can take you home.” She says. “Now, go.”

Stiles inches towards the pot with caution. He crouches down to it and a bubble in the mixture pops dramatically. “Is that it?”

Suddenly, the wind howls and the scene of lava lamp fills the air. Stiles gasps and staggers backwards, falling, before Derek catches him.

“Wow,” Stiles says, eyes unfocused. “I feel like being a nap for a bit.”

“ _Being_ a nap?” Derek asks.

Stiles turns and falls against Derek as he grabs his face, the rest of his body hanging limply. “Yeah. I wanna. _Be_ the nap. You know?”

Derek sends a look to Lydia who shrugs and kicks the pot, spilling its contents to the ground. The mixture seeps into the soil with a slight glow. 

“The merkeys should start dying off by tonight.” She says. “They’re going to start dying in random places, so go tell your puppies that we’re all on cleanup duty.”

“Heh, cleanup duty.” Stiles giggles and gives up on standing, looping his arms around Derek’s neck as Derek has to keep a hand on his waist to keep him upright.

“How long is he going to be like this?” He asks.

“A few hours at most.” She tells him. “Do you think you could watch over him? I don’t think it’d be smart to leave him alone like that.” She smiles, walking away.

Derek can’t help but feel like this was planned.

Stiles hums against his neck and traces his hands up and down to Derek’s arms. “You’ve got A+ arms you know that?”

It takes all of his willpower to not just drop him right there.

The drive to Stiles’ house was…interesting. Derek now has blackmail material against Stiles for the next four years or so and a new outlook on his eyebrows. He’s never felt so good about his eyebrows before. Apparently, Stiles thinks about his eyebrows a lot.

He essentially drags Stiles into his house, before he lovingly dumps him onto his couch.

Stiles wiggles and adjusts himself on the couch before yelling, “Derek!” as if he weren’t standing a meter a way.

“Yes Stiles?”

“Come closer,” He says and Derek steps forward. “No, I mean like, your face. Face. Closer. Here closer.” Stiles holds a hand approximately three inches away from his own face.

“No.”

“But _Derek_.” He whines. Derek is not a strong person, so he brings himself closer.

They’re close. Really close. So close that he could lean forward just a bit and—

Stiles brings a finger up to his face and places it on Derek’s nose with a “boop.”

Derek sighs and stands up while Stiles laughs like it’s the funniest thing ever.

“Scott told me that you bought a fish,” He slurs out. “This is the, third? Fourth? How many fish?”

“Elphaba the 5th.”

Stiles puts on a megawatt smile. “You kept the name.” He sighs dreamily. “But I’m gonna have to kidnap her. For your own good. I’m gonna Mission Impossible my way to that poor fish.” He says with conviction before his eyes slip closed.

Derek rolls his eyes and smiles, knowing that nobody is going to see it anyways.

\---

It’s probably two in the morning when Derek hears footsteps in the loft. He isn’t alarmed though, because they’re footsteps he recognizes, because nobody walks quite as erratically as Stiles Stilinski.

He gets downstairs and is greeted by the sight of Stiles, shirt stained with water, holding a small fishbowl containing Elphaba the 5th.

"I'm sorry to take her from you. I thought it would be better this way." Stiles says with his face ridiculously solemn, fishbowl in hand, slowly backing away from Derek.

Stiles breaks into a sprint when he reaches the doorway and Derek is not in the mood to chase a seventeen year old boy over a goldfish so he just lets it be.

He obviously failed the test, he failed to prove himself, so he doesn’t deserve him. 

It. 

He doesn’t deserve _it._ The fish. He means the fish.

He doesn’t deserve the fish.

\---

_Text from Stiles_  
 _-ok so merkeys are fucking EVERYWHERE and we turned it into a game of WHERES THE WEIRDEST PLACE YOU FOUND A DEAD MERKEY? all entries are going to you_

_Text to Stiles_  
 _-Why?_

_Text from Stiles_  
 _-bc i know youre not gonna join duh so better make you the judge_

_Text from Allison_  
 _-Sidewalk._

_Text from Boyd_  
 _-inside the toilet in school_

_Text from Erica_  
 _-UNDER THE TABLE????? WTH?????_

The winner ends up being Scott, who found one in a flower vase in the hospital. The merkey couldn’t even fit in it. 

\---

It takes a week, but all the merkeys have been successfully eradicated from Beacon Hills.

It also takes a week for Derek to go see Stiles.

Stiles, who is using a pillow to extinguish a fire in the middle of his room.

“Derek,” Stiles waves at him. “Since the merkeys are gone, the magic is back in the air.” He smiles as his pant leg catches on fire.

Derek sighs. If somebody were to transcribe the last few years of his life, the word ‘sigh’ would appear more times than actually necessary.

Everything is put out and fire free in a few minutes. Stiles breathes out in relief, falling onto his bed.

“Deaton say the merkeys are gone for good?” He mumbles.

“Yeah, there are probably a bunch of them rotting in the sewers but that’s not our problem anymore.” He says as something catches his eye.

On Stiles’ desk sits a small tank, there are some pebbles, a lone plant, a stick, and Elphaba the 5th, looking as alive as ever.

“Stop looking at her like a kicked puppy. You’re not getting her back.”

“I don’t look like a kicked puppy,” He says and he refuses to acknowledge how childish he just sounded. “I’m just saying, I could take care of her.”

“Oh my god,” Stiles sits up. “Why are you so adamant about the fish, Derek?”

“It’s nothing.” He growls.

“It sure doesn’t sound like it’s nothing. What’s going on?”

“Nothing, it’s—”

“Derek.”

“It’s stupid, it’s not important, I just—”

“ _Derek_ ”

“I just wanted to prove to you that I could take care of a goddamn fish.” He snaps. “But I can’t even do that, like it was a surprise, because I fuck things up, Stiles. I can’t even keep a fish alive, how am I supposed to take care of a _pack_ , I—”

Derek didn’t notice Stiles stand up from the bed. He didn’t notice Stiles close the distance between them, grab his face and pull him forwards.

He’s noticing now.

It’s like a breath of fresh air, being this close to Stiles. It feels _right_. Stiles moves his hands into Derek’s hair and Derek settles his on Stiles ‘waist as he leans into the kiss, a gentle press of skin against skin.

Stiles pulls away, just by a fraction, lips just on the edge of touching, as he says, “You fucking idiot.” He hides his face against Derek’s neck. “The fish wasn’t a test. I wasn’t testing you or you’re leadership capabilities. I like you. I gave you a fish. Why do you need to complicate everything?”

“But,” He says, still in a daze. “You trusted me. With the fish.”

“Yeah, and it died. So what? I admit it was actually really cute with how you were courting me through dead fish but please stop buying fish.” Stiles groans. “There are better things you can do that do not concern fish.”

“Yeah?” Derek tips Stiles’ head up.

“Yeah.”

On Stiles’ desk, in the fish tank, Elphaba the 5th looks happier than ever.

**Author's Note:**

> pls take good care of your fish........


End file.
